Goals
by Raven's Wing
Summary: She'd said tying was like kissing your brother, and he couldn't get that out of his head.
1. Chapter 1

**Disclaimer**: I own nothing related to any Disney universe including, but not limited to, characters, names of places, lyrics, dialogue, or any other piece of product. Disney retains all the rights to their universes. I am making no money or receiving any kind of compensation, material or non-material, for this fiction. It's all for fun. Please don't sue me. I do claim the writing, the idea behind this particular narrative, and any peripheral characters or locations created to augment Disney's work.

**A/N**: Possibly a one shot, probably more. Enjoy.

* * *

She'd said tying was like kissing your brother, and he couldn't get that out of his head. More specifically he couldn't get the idea of kissing her out of his head. He'd just been kidding around, asking for a tie, and he'd expected her to be tongue tied or flustered. He hadn't expected her to have a comeback, much less a comeback that left him unable to stop thinking about the shape of her mouth.

She was a freshman, a peon, here on scholarship and way not his type. He was a junior, starting goalie on varsity, and he liked soft girls, quiet girls, girls his age, girls who didn't play hockey. So why had he woken up hard and sweating after dreaming about her? Why couldn't he stop picturing her stripping off her goalie pads and showering after a game? Why was he trying to walk by her table at lunch every day just to catch a glimpse of her face?

He had to get her out of his system, and fast.

That is why he waited outside the junior varsity locker room after the showdown. He stood down the hall, folded into a shadow, his duffle bag hung over his shoulder. He imagined they were taking their time in the locker room, basking in the post win glow. The mood in there was probably as light and celebratory as the mood in his locker room had been dark and bleak.

The Ducks emerged in a burst of steam and light. The whole group of them smiling and laughing and he couldn't blame them. They deserved to celebrate. At the end of the parade came Julie. She was talking to the Texas kid, her hair wet and slicked back into a braid down her back. She laughed at something her teammate said. Her whole face lit up. His breath caught in his throat, and he couldn't think for a second. It was just the light from the locker room, but it looked like she was glowing.

"Julie!" He stepped out of the shadows and towards the group.

They all turned in unison, all with the same quizzical expression, as he approached.

"Scooter?" Julie squinted into the dark hall.

The Texan rooted himself next to her, and Charlie stepped up on her other side with the Bash Brothers close behind. None looked too happy to see him there, except Julie, but he still wouldn't call her expression happy. It was hesitant at best.

"What do you want?" It was the new Bash Brother, the one that sent Cole through the glass, and he didn't have time to answer.

"We beat you fair and square. Leave us alone." The other Bash Brother jumped in.

"I just want to talk to Julie for a second." He said. "Alone."

"No way!" It was Banks, pushing forward and putting a hand on Julie's shoulder, but Julie looked at him, nudged his hand off her shoulder, and stepped out of the group.

"It's okay guys." She looked back at her team. "I'll catch up in a minute."

"You sure, Julie?" Charlie asked, his attention not focused her, but on Scooter.

"Yeah. Totally. It's cool." She said, but no one moved. "Seriously. Everyone, I can handle this myself. I'll meet up with you later."

With that assurance, The Ducks turned one by one to leave, but before making sure Scooter knew just how much they didn't want to go by the sour pull on their faces. They were dragging their feet on purpose, distrust slowing each step. When they were halfway to the exit, Julie turned back to face him.

"Sorry about that. What's up?" She looked up at him and smiled, shifting her backpack on her shoulders.

"I - uh - I just-"

She was so small without her pads and skates. He wasn't used to seeing her like this. She looked fragile but he knew she wasn't. It was confusing, so he looked up instead to check on the progress of the retreat. He saw the Bash Brothers. They were walking backwards, the last of the group, staring at him as they headed to the exit. When they made eye contact with him, they each dragged a finger across their neck in a threat he wasn't sure was hollow. Even as they rounded the corner and were out of sight, he still felt like they were watching him.

"Scooter?" Julie looked at him, her face pinched in confusion, and he realized he hadn't said anything yet, just stuttered.

"Yeah? Sorry. I - uh - walk with me?" He nodded his head back in the direction from which he came.

"Walk with you... Where?" She peered around him into the hallway and then looked back at him.

"Just - this way." He forked his fingers through his hair. "Sorry. I'm not trying to be weird. I just keep feeling like your Duck friends are going to jump out around the corner and shoot me with marbles or tie me to the scoreboard or something." He laughed and she smiled.

He took it as a good sign when she took the first step down the hallway, past him, and he pivoted to fall in stride beside her.

"You've got a point." She pulled her braid over her shoulder, running her fingers along its ridges. "But who knows? Maybe I am going to tie you up all by myself. I know where Dwayne keeps his rope."

She didn't mean it sexually, but he felt her words run through his body like a bolt of lightning, and he choked on his own breath. He coughed, trying to get a grip, failing.

"Are you all right?" She frowned, worry knitting her brow as he alternated between clearing his throat and coughing.

"Yeah - just need - a drink." He said between coughs, gesturing at the drinking fountain beside a trophy case a few feet away.

He beelined for the fountain, bending and sucking down the cool stream of water like it would save his life. Maybe it would. He needed to pull himself together.

After an eternity, he stood up and wiped his mouth with the back of his hand. Julie was next to him, smirking, and he felt like he should apologize but has no idea what for.

"Thirsty?" Her mouth slipped into a smile, and he couldn't come up with anything to say, so he just smiled back.

She slid her body between his and the fountain and bent to take a drink. He practically jumped back when her backside brushed the legs of his jeans. She was in a skirt, long and flowing, but he could still make out the curve of her ass. She had more shape than a lot of the freshman girls at the school, but she didn't flaunt it. She didn't downplay her femininity. She didn't try to be more masculine to fit in with the boys on her team. Instead she embraced both sides of herself, feminine and masculine, in a blend of strength and dignity and it was the most confusing and wonderful combination he could imagine.

She straightened and turned to look at him. Water clung to her full bottom lip. Her tongue darted out to catch it, and he couldn't take it anymore.

He grabbed her face in his hands and kissed her before she knew what was happening. He felt her body tense, her mouth hard and cool beneath his, and it was only an instant before she jerked back.

"What - what are you doing?" The drinking fountain behind her kept her from stepping back, but her face was confused, panicked, like this wasn't what she wanted or expected.

"I..." His hands pulled back in front of his body, palms forward, his own kind of surrender. "I'm sorry. I don't... I just can't stop thinking about you."

"What?" Her hands gripped the fountain behind her for support, eyes wide.

"I can't stop thinking about you." He said again. "You are all I ever think about. I've tried to stop, but I can't and I just can't - I just - I don't know what to do." His fingers made tracks in his hair again, frustrated with himself and his feelings "I don't know what to do." He repeated and let his hands flop to his sides in defeat.

She was quiet when he looked at her, face a blank mask, and he felt naked and helpless in front of her. His chest was tight and he felt like he couldn't breathe, like he was suffocating in the open air waiting for her response, and the pressure was crushing. Then she opened her mouth, taking a deep breath, reminding him how to breathe, and said:

"I can't stop thinking about you, either."

It was all he could do not to crush her against him and never let her go.

"Yeah?" His tongue felt too big in his mouth.

"Yeah." She said

Her fingers went back to her braid, fiddling it between her fingers. She looked around the trophy case, down the hall where her teammates had disappeared, and then back at him. He couldn't decipher the expression on her face if he tried, but that wasn't going to stop him now.

This time she wasn't surprised when he took her face in his hands. This time he didn't smash his face against hers in urgent need. This time he gave her the chance to reject him.

She didn't. She turned her face up and met his mouth with hers. Where she had been hard and tense before, now she was soft and yielding. Her lips parted against his. She tasted like Gatorade and cinnamon gum, a combination as strange as the girl it belonged to, and he wanted more of her.

He stepped up against her, pinning her body between his and the drinking fountain. He let his hands skate down her neck, shoulders, arms, sliding her backpack off so he could pull her up against him, one hand on her hip, one between her shoulder blades. She was soft breasts and lean muscle and small hands gripping the lapels of his varsity jacket. She was the smell of soap and shampoo and sweet smelling lotion he didn't recognize. She was all he could see, think, smell, feel and the hand on her back ran up to cup the back of her head, tilting it back, opening her up to him the last bit.

Her tongue touched his and a groan ripped from his chest. She was doing everything right and he couldn't ever remember a time where he wasn't kissing her. Every muscle in his body pulled tight, straining towards her touch. He needed her closer. The hand on her hip spread to her back, wrapping around her waist, tightening, pulling her up on her toes. Her arms tangled around his neck, clinging to him, drawing him in with every breath, every noise, every move she made.

Then there was a clatter and they sprung apart, wiping their mouths with the backs of their hands, running fingers through mussed hair. An old janitor came around the corner, his supplies cart rattling on the hard floor. A look of surprise dawned on his face at the sight of the two young people.

"The rink's closed. Time to move along home, kids." The janitor said.

The man's voice sounded like it was underwater. His heartbeat thrummed in his ears, blood rushing through his body, the pressure from her mouth still tingling on his lips. He pressed his tongue out to test them, tasted her there, and holy hell he hadn't meant for it to be like this. He looked at Julie, but she wasn't looking at him. She was putting on her backpack, pushing a few dry curls back behind her ears, and doing everything but look at him. Why wasn't she looking at him?

His mouth went dry.

His stomach dropped to his feet.

"I'm sorry." Julie said, head down, whirling to exit, and Scooter didn't know if she was apologizing to him or to the janitor.

All he could do was watch her go.


	2. Chapter 2

**Disclaimer**: I own nothing related to any Disney universe including, but not limited to, characters, names of places, lyrics, dialogue, or any other piece of product. Disney retains all the rights to their universes. I am making no money or receiving any kind of compensation, material or non-material, for this fiction. It's all for fun. Please don't sue me. I do claim the writing, the idea behind this particular narrative, and any peripheral characters or locations created to augment Disney's work.

**A/N**: To all those who caught my upload snafu (thanks texaskid), this is the actual second chapter. I apologize for any inconvenience.

* * *

It had been eight days since the incident he named "The Kiss". Eight days since he'd slept without dreaming of her. Eight days since he'd been able to focus on anything besides remembering her taste. Eight days since he'd seen her anywhere except surrounded by her Duck friends. Eight days since she had even made eye contact with him. In fact, she looked everywhere except him whenever their paths crossed, turning away when she saw him.

It made his stomach churn.

He didn't want to admit that some dumb freshman had the power to hurt his feelings, bruise his pride, but she had. He thought kissing her would cool his need, prove his elite status, but all it had done was make him crave her more. He'd thought that she would have sought him out by now, wanting answers like he did, but she hadn't. She'd been more unavailable than ever.

He was done waiting.

He caught her on the stairs of the campus' main building after her last class, falling into step beside her as she descended. She glanced at him, stone faced, her hair waving free behind her as she quickened her pace.

"We need to talk." He said, appreciating the way the afternoon light played on her skin.

"No we don't." Her arms tightened around the books pressed to her chest and she glanced at the students moving around them, but not at him. Anywhere but him.

"Yes we do." He felt a deep rumbling in his chest, uneasiness welling within him at her avoidance.

"No. We don't." She repeated and made a sharp turn to cut across the open lawn to the hockey arena.

He scrambled to catch up with her change of direction, "But we kissed."

Her whole body tensed at his words, slowing her for an instant. Her eyes scanned around them, seeing if anyone around them heard what he said, but it didn't seem like anyone did. Most of the other student stuck to the paved paths and were dispersing like dust in the wind to all different corners of the campus. He couldn't understand why it would matter if anyone heard, and he didn't like that it seemed to mattered to her.

"What is going on? Are you avoiding me?" He asked and she didn't say anything again. Instead she sped up, putting her chin down to avoid his gaze. He matched her pace.

"Wait, are you?" He grabbed at her elbow, but she evaded him.

He grabbed again and this time caught her arm, but she didn't stop. She tried to keep walking, tugging at his grip, but he held tighter.

"Hold on a second." He stepped up close to her.

"Let me go!" She struggled.

"I will if you'll just talk to me." He said and she glared at him.

"I have to get to practice." With that she gave one more firm twist.

Her action broke his hold, but the violence of her movement caused her grip on her books to slip. Her binder crashed to the grass at her feet. It popped open, loose papers and notes flying in the breeze, and across the green.

She tried to contain up the mess. "Thanks a lot, Scooter."

"Shit, Jules, I'm sorry." He dropped to his knees on the grass, grabbing runaway pieces, and she joined him.

"My name isn't 'Jules'." She snatched at the paper in his hands, but he pulled it out of reach.

"And mine isn't 'Scooter'." He held the handful of notes away from her, and her eyes turned to daggers.

She went back to recovering the last pages that fluttered around her on hands and knees, ignoring him. Her Angry hands flashed in retrieval. Their motions were punctuated by tucking long hair behind her ears. When she had gotten all of the loose papers she could, shoving them between pages of a thick textbook, she turned to him and eyed the remaining notes in his hand. He felt his heart speed up at her attention.

"Give me my notes." She sat up on her knees, edging closer to him.

"Not till you give me a minute." He didn't back away, letting her nearer, moving her notes behind his back.

"I don't have a minute." She said, rocking back on her toes, assessing her best chance at getting back what was hers.

"Then make one." He said, keeping careful watch on her sticky fingers.

"No." She said, jaw set. "Just give me my notes."

"We kissed and now you won't even look at me." He said. "Come on, Julie. What's going on?"

He tried to not sound needy, to not sound hurt or confused, but he knew it leaked into his voice without permission.

"I've been busy, now give me my stuff." She said, but when he didn't comply she surged forward without warning, grasping at her imprisoned notes.

In her flurry, he caught one of her wrists in his free hand and jerked her forward. She lost her balance and toppled forward onto her knees. Her other hand caught her weight on his chest. It took them both a moment to register just how close they were to each other, but then he felt her breath on his face like fire through his system. His body tingled at her proximity, at the warmth of her skin against his palm, at the press of her hand against his chest. Could she feel how hard his heart was beating?

"Just give me a minute?" He held her close, clutching her wrist at his shoulder, his body strained to support them both at this awkward angle. He couldn't help but stare at her mouth.

"No." She said, her voice low and steely, but she didn't pull back. She stayed pressed up against him, the swell of breasts compressed against a firm wall of muscle.

"Why?" He wished he had a hand free to touch her cheek, to run his fingers down the soft column of her neck, to memorize the feel of her when she was warm and close.

"Because..." She didn't finish.

She kissed him instead.

The press of her mouth was urgent and sudden, like a summer storm, a siege unannounced, and it rendered him thoughtless. It was hot, wet, without warning, and unapologetic. It was a fever, spreading through him, taking hold of every fiber of his being. He drowned in it, the surprise and sensation, and took whatever she gave.

His grip on her wrist slacked in desire to touch other things, to search for more warm, soft skin. He cupped the back of her head, fingers weaving through her hair, thumb brushing her cheek, her jaw. The base of his palm pressed against her neck and he felt her pulse racing there. The tattoo of her heart matched his and his excitement spiked.

She shifted, pulling her body closer to his, and her hand dug into his shoulder. The small hand on his chest slid lower, down to his abs, around his side, up his back, and he felt each muscle jump along her path in anticipation of her touch. The fingers on his shoulder tightened, the hand of his back skating to his side, and it wasn't until it was too late that he realized what she was doing.

First, she pushed. The weight of her body in conjunction with the force of her shove toppled him back onto the grass. She crashed atop him and her hand snatched her notes from his. Next she rolled over off of him, the grip he had on the back of her head not enough to hold her, and scrambled to grab up all of her things on the ground.

By the time he had enough clarity to shove himself up on his elbows, she was running towards the ice arena, and he was left more confused than before.

What the hell was that all about?


	3. Chapter 3

**Disclaime**r: I own nothing related to any Disney universe including, but not limited to, characters, names of places, lyrics, dialogue, or any other piece of product. Disney retains all the rights to their universes. I am making no money or receiving any kind of compensation, material or non-material, for this fiction. It's all for fun. Please don't sue me. I do claim the writing, the idea behind this particular narrative, and any peripheral characters or locations created to augment Disney's work.

**A/N**: Basically, I need a boyfriend.

* * *

Her body was on fire. She couldn't cool off, couldn't grab a breath of air, couldn't focus as Averman scored on her the third time that night.

"Pull it together, Gaffney! Defense tighten up!"

Coach Orion's voice felt far away. Her limbs felt distant and fuzzy, like she was floating somewhere beyond her body. Her head was too crowded with thoughts of stolen kisses and - no - she needed to stop. There was no time for this. She needed to focus, but it was too late.

Ken took a shot and she reached with her glove, but missed by a mile. The puck sailed into her net and why was it so damn hot in here? She was practically standing in a freezer and she was so hot she felt nauseous. This had to be her personal ring of hell.

The scrimmage couldn't end soon enough, but she lingered in the net once it was over because she dreaded the locker room jabs and curious looks. She could just hear Goldberg now, offering advice aimed to humiliate, and she wasn't ready for that. Not yet. She needed a minute.

She grabbed her water bottle from the top of the net and pulled off her helmet. She'd follow her teammates soon, but not yet. She needed a minute, just needed one stupid minute. Even though she wasn't sure what would be better once she had a minute.

All of this felt strange, surreal. She was the cat lady, the girl with the golden glove, and she didn't let anything get to her head. She didn't lose focus. She didn't lose control. She didn't have off days.

She also didn't kiss boys who weren't her boyfriend.

Except she did. Twice.

Her head hurt.

She was mid-drink when she heard the slide of blades on the ice approach her. She didn't have to look. She knew that skate.

"Hey." It was Adam. His helmet was on top of his stick and his dark blonde hair stuck to his forehead.

"Hey." She swallowed the heart that grew in her throat.

"Is everything - okay?"

He seemed shy, tentative, and that made her bristle. Adam was a quiet boy, not rambunctious or loud like his teammates, but he wasn't timid. His attempt at tact made her stomach churn. What was he getting at? Was he looking for some kind of confession? Had he seen her with Scooter?

"Yeah. Everything's cool. Why?" She tried not to fidget, but found it impossible.

"I don't know." He shrugged. "You just seemed kind of, you know, out of it today."

He was being nice, checking in on her, but it made her feel horrible. She knew she was a train wreck today, but it didn't help to have someone else notice, to have someone point it out. Especially Adam. Especially today.

"Yeah. I know. I just - I've got a big test in pre-calc tomorrow and it's stressing me out."

Except she didn't have a test in pre-calc until next week. In fact, she didn't have a test in any class tomorrow at all, but the lie came easily because the truth was impossible. Anything was better than the truth.

"Oh." He said, looking down at his skates. "I wish I could help you with that."

His sentiment was genuine, it wasn't his fault she was good at math, and it twisted the knots in her stomach tighter and even tighter still when she realized her brain formed a lie that involved the only class she shared with a certain varsity goalie. Even when she wasn't thinking about him, she was thinking about him. What was wrong with her?

"No. It's fine. I'll be fine. I just need to study some more tonight, that's all." She tried to clear her head of thoughts of Scooter. It didn't work.

"So hanging out tonight is a no go?"

His look of disappointments sent the reminder of her forgetfulness to the front of her mind. This was their hangout night and had been for three months. Not remembering their sacred time was one thing, not remembering because of another boy was a whole different can of worms.

"I'm sorry, Adam." She reached out and brushed his arm with her gloved hand. "Look, the test isn't going to be that difficult. I am just too in my head about it. We can still hang out if you want."

"I don't want to screw up your grades. You're the only real goalie this team has. We can miss one week if it keeps you off the pine pony."

"No. I'll be fine. I want to hang out." She pulled a smile and tried to believe it.

"Me, too." He smiled back.

Adam leaned in and kissed her. It was chaste, soft, not trying to prove anything but gratitude because he knew there would be other chances to kiss her later. Other chances because he was her boyfriend and he could do stuff like that. Because he wasn't Scooter.

He pulled back, "Come on, the Ducks are going to wonder where we are."

She nodded and grabbed her things. They skated back to the locker room side by side, and Julie spent the entire time thinking about Scooter.


	4. Chapter 4

**Disclaime**r: I own nothing related to any Disney universe including, but not limited to, characters, names of places, lyrics, dialogue, or any other piece of product. Disney retains all the rights to their universes. I am making no money or receiving any kind of compensation, material or non-material, for this fiction. It's all for fun. Please don't sue me. I do claim the writing, the idea behind this particular narrative, and any peripheral characters or locations created to augment Disney's work.

**A/N**: This thing is taking on a life of its own.

* * *

He dropped a note on her desk as he walked to his seat. He didn't look at her. He just let it fall on top of the open pages of her notebook and it sat there like a loaded gun, but she didn't look at it. She slammed her notebook shut, securing the scrap of folded paper between the lined pages, and tried to forget that it was there. She failed. She couldn't forget, even if she wanted to. Even if it was best for both of them if she just ignored it.

What happened between them over the last several days was a fluke. Even if it had happened twice, it was still a fluke. It had to be a fluke. It just had to be. It made things too complicated if it wasn't.

Mrs. Brownstone wrote a rectangular coordinate equation on the blackboard, and Julie knew she should write it down too, but she couldn't. That would mean opening her notebook and chancing a glimpse at the forbidden note stuck there. That was not something she could do.

She twitched her fingers over the pages of her textbook instead, trying to focus, but Scooter was two seats to her left and one seat back and it was all she could do to not turn and see if he was having as much trouble focusing as she was. She fiddled with her pencil, scratching the lead dull on the corner of her desk, and was completely unprepared for the question that came her way.

"... Miss. Gaffney?" It was Mrs. Brownstone, glaring down her bespectacled nose at her, but Julie hadn't heard anything beside her name.

Julie's mind went blank with panic. Why on this day, of all days, was she being called on? She was a good student. She studied and worked and tried until her eyeballs felt like they might fall out of her head from exhaustion. She was normally prepared for questions, but today she was anything but.

"I'm sorry?" Julie said, scrambling, and she heard the whole class shift at her discrepancy.

"You know how I feel about repeating myself, Miss. Gaffney." Mrs. Brownstone adjusted her glasses and Julie felt ill.

She knew exactly how Mrs. Brownstone felt about repeating herself and so did the rest of the class. It was not good. Julie felt heat rise to her cheeks. The embarrassment of being caught unprepared left her tongue tied.

"Please identify the radius of the circle." Mrs. Brownstone said, and Julie's eyes went to the series of chalk marks across the board behind her teacher.

The numbers and letters swam. The concept and execution escaped her as she felt bile rise in her throat. She didn't know what to do, at least not without her notes. The same notes that were now sandwiching a missive which she was loathe to read, but she to look at her notes. She had to at least try to figure out this equation.

"It's uh – just let me..." She flipped open forbidden pages to the place she had scribbled down the information she needed and found the folded piece of paper there in incriminating clarity. "I - I just..."

She attempted to read her notes, to find meaning in the annotations, but it was useless. All she could see was the contraband correspondence with a large printed J on top in dark blue ink. This was bad.

"Is it… seven?" Julie felt the air suck out of the room and Mrs. Brownstone sniffed.

It wasn't seven.

"Miss. Gaffney, please prepare problems fourteen through thirty in chapter four in addition to the homework already assigned for class tomorrow."

"Yes ma'am."

Julie felt like her face was on fire. Her cheeks and ears burned with embarrassment and anger. This was all Scooter's fault. If he could just leave her alone like he should have, none of this would have happened, but no. He had to go and drop a note on her desk, and try to talk to her after class, and kiss her without warning after the showdown. What was his problem?

She wanted to wad up the note, turn around, and chuck it at him. She wanted to stand up in the middle of class and read it to the whole class just to embarrass him. She wanted to make a scene and throw it away in the trashcan by the door just so he knew that she hadn't read it and didn't care, but she couldn't do any of those things. This note had already gotten her in enough trouble. She didn't need it to give her any more.

Ignoring it just gave her two extra hours of homework tonight and she couldn't have it spoil anything else. Maybe if she read it, she would be able to focus. She could see what he had to say and just dismiss it because she would have the power then.

That is why she opened it.

She undid the tight creases, trying not to draw attention while Mrs. Brownstone wrote on the blackboard, and spread the scrap flat on top of her notes. Her heart hammered in her ears. She just knew Scooter was watching her, probably gloating, but this whole thing was his fault, so he didn't get to judge.

She didn't look right away. She tried to convince herself not to give Scooter the satisfaction, but her head was pounding and it was only third period. She needed this feeling to go away or else she would explode before lunch. So she glanced down, keeping her head up so Scooter couldn't tell if she was reading or not, gazing down the length of her nose.

There is concise capital letters she read:

WE NEED TO TALK.  
LIBRARY. TONIGHT. 8.  
PLEASE?

It wasn't signed. It could have been from anyone, but it wasn't. It was from him and it was to her and this just kept getting more and more complicated.

Reading that note didn't make anything better.

She rushed out of pre-calculus the second the bell rang and dropped the note in the trash on her way out, but it haunted her. What exactly was she supposed to do? Meet with him and talk about how kissing him was ruining her life? Ignore the note and run the risk of something like this happening again? Both options sucked.

She barely ate at lunch. Goldberg made jokes about last night's scrimmage and how it was no wonder that she couldn't stop any goals since she didn't eat. Averman joined in with the jabs. Adam was appropriately concerned. She made excuses. She'd had a big breakfast. She wasn't that hungry. She ate a snack between periods. Just not that her stomach was tied in knows because she had no idea what to do about Scooter.

She'd floated through the rest of her academic day, paying attention just enough to not be caught off guard like she had by Mrs. Brownstone, but by no means at the level of focus she needed to be. Coach Orion ran skating drills at practice that night, for which she was relieved because she could just skate. The feel of her blades against the ice was soothing, numbing. It was familiar and simple and for the first time that day she almost felt normal, but then practice was over and she was numb for a different reason.

What was she supposed to do?

She had a boyfriend. They'd been dating three months, a record for her, and she didn't want to mess this up. Adam was kind and thoughtful and he knew what it was like to be on the outside of the core Duck alliance. They'd kept their relationship quiet, out of the prying eyes of their teammates, not wanting drama with Adam playing varsity, but they were close to taking their relationship public. The timing felt right. They'd settled into a routine, they were on the same team again and that team was The Ducks. Their friends should know that they were happy.

But then she started kissing Scooter.

She started kissing Scooter and it had to stop. Now.

That is why she packed up her homework and went to the campus library that night. This was it. This was the end. She needed to get her life back together before this situation got any more insane.

She got to the library at seven forty eight, found a table back behind the social sciences section, and tried to keep busy. She had plenty to do, but found it hard to focus. At every noise her head popped up to see if it was him, but it wasn't. At eight o' two though, it was him.

He wasn't wearing his trademark varsity jacket and he had on a Pittsburg Penguin ball-cap. He looked different, like he was trying not to be seen or recognized, but Julie would know him anywhere. She couldn't take her eyes off of him. Her mouth went dry when his gaze met hers and she couldn't remember what part of her thought this had been a good idea.

He didn't come over to her at her table. Instead he ducked into an aisle of books a few feet away and jerked his head for her to follow. On gelatin legs, she did.

He stood in the middle of the row, hands stuffed into the pockets of his jeans, and he rocked back and forth onto his toes. He fidgeted with his cap as she approached, pulling it off of his head, forking his fingers through his hair, shoving the cap back down over his eyes. He looked as nervous as she felt, but somehow that wasn't comforting. She needed him to have a plan, a way to make this crazy situation manageable, but he didn't look like he did. Butterflies the size of pterodactyls slammed around in her stomach as she came and stood in front of him.

"Hey." He whispered, a grin pulling at one corner of his mouth.

"Hey." She whispered back, but didn't smile. She felt way too nauseous to smile.

"Sorry about getting you in trouble in class – I just – we need to talk." He glanced down to both ends of the row. No one was there.

"Yeah. We do." She agreed, but neither of them said anything.

What was there to say?

I'm sorry I kissed you and then ran away?

I'm sorry I did it twice?

I'm sorry I'm already dating someone else?

None of those options were appealing. So she waited for him to start, to launch into the impossible dialogue she didn't want to have, but he didn't. He stayed quiet, and that is why at eight o' five she found herself with her back pressed against volumes containing the general statistics of Asia and with Scooter's tongue in her mouth.

Julie didn't know who moved first for sure, but she would always claim it was Scooter.

It took only a few moments without words before the syllables of kisses replaced the silence, and Julie felt like she could breathe for the first time in days. He pulled his cap off his head as he stepped into her body and cupped her face in his hands. His mouth was insistent, firm against hers, and she leaned into him. Her hands gripped the collar of his shirt to steady herself against him, and he pressed her back against the bookshelf.

She rose up on her toes, hands sliding behind his neck and into his hair, as his traveled down the sides of her body before gripping her hips. He was a wall, rock hard and unyielding, and she bowed her body against his. He made her feel small, but not fragile. He didn't touch her like she was a doll he might break. He touched her like he wanted to leave a mark and part of her wanted him to.

She bit him, drawing his lip between hers and grabbing it with her teeth, and he hissed. His hands clenched on her hips and pulled her harder up against his body. She wanted… did it ever matter what? It was all just too much to process. She wasn't this kind of girl, but Scooter made her wish she was.

He pulled back with a gasp, breath unsteady against her cheek, and she couldn't move if she tried. His eyes, wide and stupefied, held her steady more than his grip because she felt exactly what his expression told her. This wasn't a fluke. This wasn't something that would go away if they ignored it. This wasn't something she could stop, even if she wanted to, and she didn't want to. She needed him to stop it for them. She needed him to be strong and think clearly and do the right thing. That is why she had to tell him the truth.

"I have a boyfriend." She whispered the phrase rushing in her mind, and the look on his face told her he hadn't been expecting that.

This was about to get even more complicated that she could imagine.


End file.
